


supersonic boom

by anons



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25482808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anons/pseuds/anons
Summary: Soonyoung isn't the best nor is he the most pleasant superhero but he tries. Dear god, he fucking tries.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Comments: 36
Kudos: 143





	supersonic boom

**Author's Note:**

> rated T for Take a shot everytime there's a swear word
> 
> this fic has been translated to [chinese](http://starstorm.site/2020/08/25/%E3%80%90%E6%8E%88%E6%9D%83%E7%BF%BB%E8%AF%91%E3%80%91%E8%B6%85%E9%9F%B3%E9%80%9F%E7%88%86%E7%82%B8/) by [LoveIsNever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNever/pseuds/LoveIsNever)

Operating on coffee and survival instinct alone, Soonyoung crashes into the scene.

He _ubers_ there, to be exact. And if it’s so he could catch a few winks in the car before doing this crime fighting stint then it’s none of anyone’s business. Heroes need rest too, after all.

Gameboy, the little shit, is there when he arrives.

“Listen, I don’t know what the deal with you is,” Soonyoung immediately scowls, marching to him angrily, “but you need to stop fucking doing this in the middle of the night.”

Not very charming and hero-like, he admits, but hey, can you blame him? He’d been working on his research paper before he’d gotten the distress call from Seungcheol. Crime at the Linux Lab, he’d said. Some sort of shady computer activity going on. Go check it out, Soonyoung, never-fucking-mind that you’re working on a paper and that there are half a dozen other heroes that are available for dispatch.

Gameboy looks up from the computer to regard him lazily. Soonyoung kind of wants to gauge his eyes out of his stupid pixel mask. “Ah, Starburst”—that’s Soonyoung’s superhero name, obviously—“Funny running into you here.”

Soonyoung glowers at him. “I am not in the mood for this right now. Get up so I can fight you.”

“You wouldn’t want that,” Gameboy drawls in that robotic voice of his, still typing away. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Yeah, you came here to steal data and that’s a crime. And it’s my duty to stop you. Get up. Let’s fist fight.”

Gameboy just snorts. “What—no lightbeams this time?”

“I’m not supposed to damage the lab,” Soonyoung says, coming closer to take a look at Gameboy’s computer screen. The activity’s all Greek to him. “Linux stocks had been skyrocketing lately, you know. Do you know what a fucking big deal they are now?”

“I know,” Gameboy says, “That’s why I’m here.”

Binary looks back at him mockingly from the computer screen. Soonyoung then looks at Gameboy, watching his pixels hum electric, wondering what his face looks like beneath the mask. Realizing he’s veering off his duty, he scrunches his face angrily—mad at himself, mostly. He then grabs Gameboy by the shoulders and throws him to the other side of the room.

Soonyoung punches him before he can even get up.

Gameboy’s pixels falter and then recalibrate. He retaliates with a fist to Soonyoung’s jaw but Soonyoung manages to move away in time for it to hit his ear instead. Jesus fucking Christ. Electric, bright pain shoots up to his new helix piercing. “Fuck,” Soonyoung hisses, and Gameboy remains unmoving and frozen beneath him. Staring up, wide-eyed beneath his pixel mask, like he’s witnessing the second coming of Christ.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers under his breath.

And holy fuck, indeed. Soonyoung bites his tongue ( _pleasedontletitbeinfected_ ) and throws a barrage of punches. Gameboy manages to block the fifth one, crossing his arms to shield his face, and it throws Soonyoung off. Gameboy uses the quick pause to push him off.

They move across the room. Soonyoung is careful not to damage anything, maneuvering past Mahogany desks and sleek screens, retaliating Gameboy’s every attack power-less. Kick, punch, hit. Tackle. His breath is knocked out his chest when Gameboy throws him to the ground. Then, it hits him hard. Like a fucking bullet in the back. The exhaustion that the caffeine had kept in bay for the past six hours. Everything wears down on him. So with his body begging him to finish the fight, he gives in. He stuns Gameboy with light and momentarily blinds him beneath his mask. The beams hit the ceiling too, two clean marks, and he thinks he’s probably slightly fucked but whatever. He kicks a writhing Gameboy to the floor and presses a foot to his chest.

“I don’t know shit about what you’re doing,” Soonyoung breathes, pressing his boot harder on Gameboy’s hardrock metal suit, “but I’m not letting you out of this room until you fix all the computers you hacked.”

Gameboy groans, and it almost makes Soonyoung smile. Almost.

“Fix it.” He leans down. “Now.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Gameboy has the gall to say, arm on Soonyoung’s ankle and a grit in his teeth when he finds it unmovable.

Soonyoung doesn’t buy it. He presses his heel harder.

“It’s true,” Gameboy rasps. “I did manage to get in but their data aren’t in danger of bugs and erasing itself anytime soon after me. Their software is designed to update and strengthen its firewall after detecting foreign access. If anything, I’m doing them a favor.”

Soonyoung narrows his eyes at him but doesn’t remove his foot. “Where’s the data you stole then?”

“What?”

“The data. The information,” says Soonyoung, “I know that you stole them now that you managed to gain access. Where is it? You brought any USB or something? A hard drive?” He raises an eyebrow, procuring a light ball but merely keeping it on his palm, millimeters away from Gameboy’s face. Just enough to threaten. “You better not think of lying, gamer boy.”

Gameboy swallows when he hears the familiar thrum of the lightball. “They’re in that silver USB plugged into that computer I was using when you entered.”

“And it has everything?”

“It has everything.”

“If I find out you’re lying I’m coming for your legs next,” Soonyoung says, and it’s an empty threat, really. Just his exhausted and ultra pissed mind talking. Gameboy’s still curled into himself as Soonyoung walks to the computer. His eyes are still screwed shut. It’ll take him about three minutes to gain his eyesight back, probably. True enough, Soonyoung finds the USB plugged in. He scans the rest of the computer screens and finds them all turned off. He thinks maybe he can leave it at that.

Pocketing the USB, he goes back to Gameboy on the floor. “Do you want me to call an ambulance or something?”

Gameboy just shakes his head.

“Okay, a taxi then?” he says, taking out his phone. “Uber? Where do you live? Maybe we can carpool or something.”

But Gameboy just says, “Go away,” with a pitiful sniff still in that fetal position of his. Soonyoung types his address in the app, doing his damned best to glue his eyes to the phone. Chanting _he’s a villain, he’s a villain. Don’t fall for it Soonyoung_ to himself like a mantra.

“Suit yourself,” he says, and he pats himself on the back for walking away.

It’s no surprise that Soonyoung is late to class the next day. He had to finish his research paper right after his, err, midnight rendezvous and didn’t get to sleep until about four a.m. Plus, he had forgotten to set an alarm. Right now, running across the field, he wishes he had Mingyu’s teleportation skills instead. Fucking light and electric powers. What’s Soonyoung supposed to do with them during times like this? Incinerate the department buildings so classes get cancelled?

He almost bumps into someone when he turns the hallway.

“Woah!” says a very clear voice, the person holding him by the arm.

When he looks up, it’s Mingyu who Soonyoung knows. He laughs, teeth poking out. “Jeez, hyung, you running a marathon or something?” he teases but Soonyoung isn’t looking at him anymore. Beside Mingyu stands Jeon Wonwoo who Soonyoung knows too. Very well, in fact. How could he not when his friends tease him about Wonwoo’s crush on Soonyoung every time they get a chance? Sure, Wonwoo hasn’t confessed yet but at this point he doesn’t fucking need to do. All their mutual friends had been doing it for him since the beginning of time.

So much for keeping secrets.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says to them both. “No class?”

Mingyu lets go of him. “I don’t have class until 11:30.”

“How ‘bout you?” Soonyoung asks, tilting his head at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo looks at him for a bit before looking away. “I have a 10:30,” he says, expression schooled blank which really, Soonyoung applauds him for. He can’t hide his nervous swallow, though.

“Cool, cool.” Soonyoung nods, and decides to stop the torment there. “Anyway, Mingyu, are you going to that club meeting in the afternoon?”

Mingyu frowns. “What club meeting?”

“You know.” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow because really, it’s been five months since they decided to call their superhero duties “club meetings” yet Mingyu still forgets? “The meeting they announced this morning. Did you even check your messages?”

“Oh,” Mingyu says, eyes widening when he realizes. “ _Oh_. Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I have to go now. I’m really, really, really late for my class. See you around!” he says, making to leave but something—somehow—makes him pause. With reasons unknown (although his friends would say it’s because Soonyoung is a fucking sadistic prick), he turns back to say, “Are those new glasses, Wonwoo? It suits you.” And then leaves, strangely satisfied, with the sight of Wonwoo’s burning cheeks in his mind all the way to class.

“That was kind of cruel, by the way,” says Mingyu later in the afternoon back in the HQ as they train. There’s virtually no peace in Seoul but today’s the closest thing to peaceful they can get; they only had to be dispatched to two minor crimes today. No physical fights, too!

Soonyoung picks up a knife. “What was?”

“What you did earlier to Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu explains, and when Soonyoung raises an eyebrow at him he rolls his eyes. “You know what you did. Don’t act dumb.”

He turns to Mingyu with a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, and then throws the knife to the target, skillful and fast and sharp. Bullseye. He could do this all day.

Soonyoung does it because of Seungcheol’s text. _Heard you were flunking class again_ , it’d said, and as Soonyoung read it his phone sat heavy on his hand like lead. _You better raise your grades up again if you don’t want me to stop sending you to missions_. Soonyoung scrunches his face, wants to tell him that _maybe_ if he stopped sending Soonyoung to missions in the middle of the night then maybe he can finish schoolwork in peace and focus in class more. But that’d probably lead to Seungcheol laying him off fieldwork for life and Soonyoung can’t have that. He’d be lying if he said all this crime fighting work are the highlight of his day. Even despite its repercussions.

 _I will, hyung_ , he replies instead like the good, reasonable superhero he is.

Soonyoung does it for his grades and nothing more. When his professor announces the two-people project for finals, he makes a split-second decision and instantly goes to Wonwoo’s usual project partner—Junhui—to talk his way into what he wants.

“Sorry, man,” Soonyoung starts, conjuring his most sincere expression, “but can I borrow Wonwoo this time?”

Junhui looks amused. “What?”

“I’ll owe you, I swear,” he says, looking at Wonwoo sitting unbothered in front of the class even as all the others penguin-waddle to their chosen partners, “A meal, one assignment, anything. Name it. Just let me partner with him for the semester.”

“Eager, aren’t you?” Junhui laughs, surprised and tone just the slightest bit teasing. “Save your money and spend it on him instead. He gets a bit wired when deadlines near so take him out to eat or something. He’ll appreciate it.”

Soonyoung sighs, grateful. “Thank you, really.”

“I’m not doing this for me, Soonyoung,” Junhui says, and when they both look at Wonwoo he finally looks back. He looks confused at the sight of them both talking. Junhui just grins and raises a thumbs up. “Take care of him, okay?” he tells Soonyoung, leaving with one last pat to the shoulder. Soonyoung looks back at Wonwoo but he’s already turning his back, head to his notes again. He walks to the front.

“Hey Wonwoo,” he says when he’s within earshot. “Chose a partner yet?”

Wonwoo looks up, expression lost. “Um, no. Not yet.”

“Wanna be partners?”

“Uh,” Wonwoo says, a bit hesitant. “What about Junhui?”

When Soonyoung turns to see, Junhui’s already partnered with a blonde Soonyoung had forgotten the name of. She actively participates in class, though. Good for him. “He chose someone else this time.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo flounders eloquently.

Soonyoung can barely hold his amusement. “So do you wanna be partners?”

“Uh yeah, sure,” Wonwoo agrees, gaze dropping back to his notes. Soonyoung says _great_ and then sits on the chair next to him as the professor tells them to go back to their seats so he can further announce the details of the project. Wonwoo stares at him when he does. Soonyoung looks back.

Wonwoo blinks. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside you,” says Soonyoung, leaning back on his chair as the professor starts to drawl through his slides. “We’re partners now, aren’t we?”

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything. Just coughs on his fist and looks ahead.

“Look,” Gameboy sighs, “I told you if you didn’t put up a fight then they wouldn’t hurt you.”

Soonyoung’s cheek throbs. He struggles with his tightly-bound hands. Hands clasped together, rope digging into his skin. Knowing that the execution of Soonyoung’s powers relied heavily on his hands, they weren’t content with handcuff knots—oh no. They even tied his actual hands together as well.

He glares at Gameboy. “What’d you expect me to do? Talk and betray my team?”

“Would you rather take a beating then?”

“You know I would,” Soonyoung spits, and Christ did that punch really resonate throughout his entire soul. He winces, feeling it sting again. It aches like a bitch. He’s much taller than Queen yet she punches like she’s a whole foot taller. She has a sharp glare beneath her mask too that could make even a grown man quiver. Her American Bully had stood beside her growling at Soonyoung like it’s seconds away from attacking. It was Copycat in the form of a dog, Soonyoung found out from Gameboy a bit later, and together they make the terrifying villain duo that ruled the streets of Seoul.

Gameboy’s pixels blink at him. “Does it hurt?”

“Does _what_ hurt?”

“Your cheek?”

“Of course it does,” Soonyoung growls. “She punched me like she wanted to knock me out. What do you expect?”

Gameboy shakes his head. “They’re coming back any minute now. If you’d just _tell_ me where your boss’ office is in your HQ then I’ll let you go. Promise.”

Soonyoung just clenches his jaw.

“Fine,” Gameboy says, and then he walks out of the room. Fucking dick. Soonyoung almost thinks he’s not coming back or when he does, he’d be trailing after his bosses like a well-trained pup but he does neither. Instead, he comes with a sky blue ice pack and crouches in front of Soonyoung.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says, tone careful like he’s placating a wounded animal when Soonyoung glowers at him behind his mask. “I’m just gonna fix you up, okay?” And when Soonyoung moves his face away, he comes closer to press the ice pack against the bruise insistently. Soonyoung hisses.

Gameboy says, “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I promise.”

And he’s so, so close that Soonyoung could see his eyes clearer, imagine his face better if he wanted to. Instead he remains still and shuts his eyes like he’s willing for something to go away. The strange rush in his chest, most likely. Here he sits, bruised cheeks and swelling throat, trying his best not to dwell on the fact that Gameboy is the closest he’s been and they’re not _fighting_ for once.

 _Think of dancing giraffes_ , he chants in his mind a bit desperately. _Tall, dancing giraffes with Hawaiian skirts and flower necklaces. Big, tall giraffes dancing to Elvis Presley_.

And it’s strange but he realizes something then right at that exact moment. It’s completely divergent from his train of thoughts but it’s a helpful one. He remembers the homing device installed to his suit and the watch on his wrist. There’s a code: three consecutive taps, and help will come. He opens his eyes when he remembers.

Gameboy is staring at him.

“I’m fine now,” he croaks, heart racing, and it’s purely from the thought of finally escaping, he swears. “It feels better. You can stop with the ice pack now.”

Gameboy just pauses like he isn’t sure but moves the cloth away from his face eventually. He gives Soonyoung one last look before walking out of the room again to return the ice pack. Soonyoung raises his wrist quick, sees half his watch just dangling beneath the rope. He uses his unbruised cheek and presses one, two, three times.

His heart is still racing when Gameboy comes back.

He takes one look at Soonyoung and says, “You did something, didn’t you?”

“What?” Soonyoung swallows. “No, I didn’t.”

Gameboy just squints at him. Eyes disappearing into tiny, tiny pixels. And when nothing happens, he goes back to the corner of the room and seats himself on the bean bag couch. Picking up his discarded Tolstoy. Soonyoung counts down. He’s on the seventy-sixth when something finally happens. Mingyu—Anyang Man (cheesy and unoriginal, right?)—materializes next to Soonyoung. Instantly, Gameboy stands up in alarm.

Mingyu looks at him with a toothy grin. “See you around, Gameboy,” he says, and then grabs Soonyoung’s arm and teleports them back to the HQ.

Seungcheol doesn’t even look up from his desk. “Mingyu, what did I tell you about teleporting in my office?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Mingyu says amicably, then he teleports them to the lounge where the others are. Seokmin brightens when he sees Soonyoung. “Hyung!” he grins, “You’re back!”

Seungcheol exits his office and makes his way to them. Hansol is lying on the love couch, elevating icicles and effectively bringing the temperature down. Annoyed, Seungkwan breathes a puff of fire his way and melts the ice all over Hansol’s face. He says, frowning, “Not everyone’s a fan of the cold, you know.”

Hansol snorts, flicking a snowflake to Seungkwan’s nose, but he stops cooling the room down.

“Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says. “Good to see you back.” He looks at Soonyoung’s bound hands. “Can someone please fix that?”

Hansol produces a sharp-edged icicle and cuts through the rope. Soonyoung’s wrists have lost all its blood circulation and they sting when he’s finally untied. Seungcheol squints at the flowering bruise on Soonyoung’s cheek. “Who did that?”

“Queen did,” Soonyoung answers, still wincing, sitting down on an empty spot on the couch. “She was there earlier. Eager to know the whereabouts of your office.” He massages his discolored wrists. “As if I’d talk.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol says. “So Gameboy didn’t do it?”

“No. He, uh, fixed me up actually.”

Seungcheol leans forward. “He took care of you?”

Somehow, Soonyoung feels embarrassed. “I guess,” he admits, “He was the one who brought me to their lair, though.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, it was a huge building, and they took me to a room that looked like a study or something. I was blindfolded when we were going up but I heard a lot of voices in the lounge. A bunch of other villains, I guess.”

To Mingyu he asks, “Did you get the location of their hideout?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Seungcheol says flippantly. “Jihoon’s been working on it and we found their location like a week ago. We’re starting to research on the villains in their team too.”

Soonyoung blinks. “Oh, so you already knew where their hideout was?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re quite predictable,” Seungkwan says highly. “They think they’re being inconspicuous but guessing their location was easy. They all take their hostages there too—a bad idea, really, if they want to stay hidden.”

Soonyoung slowly realizes. “So you knew where I was taken?”

Seungkwan beams. “Yup!”

He sees Seungcheol give Seungkwan A Look, and sees Hansol facepalm beside him. “Hold on,” Soonyoung says, gears in his head turning. “Wait a fucking second. If you all knew where I was, then how come it took so long for back up to come?”

All their faces spell guilt and their gazes revert. Soonyoung turns to Mingyu with a look that says _explain now_ and Mingyu swallows nervously. He says, “Sorry, hyung. I was, um, busy.”

“Busy.”

“There was a small store robbery and Mingyu was the one dispatched,” Seungkwan explains.

Soonyoung looks at them incredulously. “I was in there for four hours. It took four hours for Mingyu to attend to a small store robbery?”

“It was a very intense robbery.”

“What about the others then?”

“Look,” Seungcheol says before anyone can answer, “At least you’re here now, right?”

Seokmin chirps, “And with only one bruise too!”

“And if back up had come earlier I wouldn’t have it in the first place,” Soonyoung says, raising an eyebrow. “It was supposed to be a small scuffle between me and Gameboy, you know, but since it took too long Queen and Copycat had to interfere.”

“But Gameboy didn’t _hurt_ you, right?” Seungkwan asks.

“No, he didn’t. Why do you guys keep asking that?” Soonyoung says, frustrated. “Gameboy would never cause true harm—” And he stops when everyone leans forward, elbows to knees, just to listen. “Whatever,” he says, flustered.

“See!” Seungkwan bursts, “This is why we didn’t send anyone! We knew you were in good hands!”

Soonyoung gapes at them. “He’s a _villain._ ”

“Aha, but you said it yourself!” Seungkwan says. “Gameboy would never harm you!”

Soonyoung is speechless, looking at his friends’ delighted faces. Like a broken record, he repeats, “Gameboy is a _villain_ ,” as if he’s trying to convince himself as well. “He didn’t harm me, sure, but he still kept me captive. And his team was plotting against ours.”

“Of course, we knew that.” Seungcheol nods seriously. “But—how do we say this?”

Hansol breaks his silence to snitch. “Seungkwan said it was a good opportunity for you.”

“Opportunity?” Soonyoung repeats incredulously. “Opportunity to what?”

Hedging, Seungkwan says, “Well. You know.”

“No, I don’t know. Please enlighten me.”

“Well, you kind of have a weird, angry crush on him, hyung,” Seokmin chirps from the side.

Everyone lets out a sound—half dying, half snorting in lieu of laughter. Soonyoung flushes. “I don’t—” he stammers, demanding, “What the fuck are you saying? Where did you get this idea?”

“Well, for one, you get kind of strung up around him. Like you don’t know what to do with what you feel so you resort to violence,” Seokmin explains.

“You perk up whenever someone mentions him too or whenever you find out you’re up against him in a mission,” Seungcheol adds.

“Also, you sometimes go on about how infuriatingly good he is at fighting even if he’s not supposed to be a physical fighting type of villain,” Seungkwan quips.

“Look, it’s okay that you have a crush on him,” Mingyu says when Soonyoung opens his mouth to protest, patting his shoulder and it’s supposed to be comforting but it’s not. “You can still fight him and like him at the same time.”

Soonyoung stutters. “I just think it’s _grand—_ ” he starts, and is he angry at Gameboy or his friends or himself? He doesn’t even know anymore, “how I’ve just been kidnapped by a villain yet you’re all acting as if I just came from a date.”

Seungkwan grins, giving him a knowing look. “No one said anything about dates but sure.”

Soonyoung teeters between fuming and embarrassed. “It was an analogy!”

“That’s enough, guys,” Seungcheol sighs, shaking his head at everyone smiling but he’s smiling himself. “Go back to your posts. Leave Soonyoung and his crush on Gameboy alone."

Soonyoung’s face contorts. “I don’t—” he starts but no one’s listening. Seungcheol just pats his head, leaving Soonyoung on the lounge as everyone else walks off with matching knowing grins. He sinks to couch, defeated, cheek bruised and burning and still tingling with someone’s phantom touch.

Someone spearheads a huge attack downtown. According to the news, it’s probably the biggest yet for the first half of the year. When Soonyoung appears in the HQ all dressed up and ready even before the distress call, Seungcheol stops him.

“Sorry, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says, wearing a mask of his own and if Soonyoung didn’t think their situation was serious then he certainly fucking thinks so now. Seungcheol _never_ leaves the desk unless in dire need. “We’re overloaded. Stay and guard the HQ.”

Soonyoung protests, and he knows, he just fucking _knows_ , that it’s because of his goddamned flunking grades.

But Seungcheol just gives him a pointed look. He says, “Stay here, okay?” and there’s an unspoken _or else_ in there somewhere so Soonyoung slumps, giving up. Mingyu just gives him a not-so-motivating thumbs up and disappears into thin air.

If Soonyoung thought it’d take another week for him to see Gameboy again then he’s entirely wrong. Because here he is, traipsing through his HQ’s halls that are quiet as midnight. His footsteps, unfortunately, isn’t as silent. He’s got his heavy metal suit to blame for that.

Soonyoung takes four big steps and punches him in the face.

“Hi,” he says, holding a hand to where his cheek’s supposed to be except there’s nothing but pixels. “Happy to see you too.”

And because he can, Soonyoung punches again.

“Woah.” Gameboy catches his fist this time with practiced ease. “Calm down. I don’t wanna fight.”

“You broke in here. That’s automatically asking for a fight.”

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he laughs, static and filtered and Soonyoung hates himself for wondering what his actual voice would sound like without the stupid voice warp feature of his mask. “Why aren’t you out with the others?”

Soonyoung gives him a look. “So that’s your plan? Stage a huge fight somewhere else so we deploy the rest of our team and you can break into our HQ?”

“Let’s settle this peacefully, hm?”

“Okay,” Soonyoung agrees, “I am peacefully asking you for a fight.”

Gameboy’s eyes disappear into tiny slits—a ghost of a smile. He holds Soonyoung’s fist on his left hand still. Warm and firm. Soonyoung feels morally wronged. Gameboy says, tone wry, “Violence isn’t always the answer, you know.”

“Don’t lecture me when you’re out here stealing what isn’t yours.”

“Who says I was stealing?” Gameboy snorts. “What if I just wanted to visit?”

Soonyoung bares his teeth. “I’m giving you five seconds and if you don’t tell me why you’re here I’m gonna eviscerate your face out of your mask.”

Mentally, he counts 5… 4... and Gameboy snorts by three but he finally lets go of Soonyoung’s fist by two. His touch burns. “Now,” Soonyoung says, electric charges of light on his palm like the onset of a storm. “Get to talking.”

Gameboy warily looks at the volatile swirl of energy on his hand. “You guys have airtight security, huh?”

“They’re for assholes like you,” Soonyoung says. “I’m surprised you managed to get past the front desk.”

Gameboy shrugs. “I have my ways.”

“Yeah, well, not with me. Talk.”

“You know,” Gameboy says, so sudden and he visibly falters, voice human-like for the briefest seconds. He gets these quick traffics sometimes during fights and it’s the first time Soonyoung has seen it up close. The blue pixels of his mask fold into itself, arranging and rearranging, moving like atoms. Soonyoung almost thinks they’re going to disappear to make way for Gameboy’s face when they close up again. “You know,” Gameboy recalibrates, recovering from the system hiccup, “Your bruise is turning purple.”

“My…” Soonyoung is distracted, stellar energy on his hand swelling still, “My what?”

“Your bruise?” Gameboy repeats, and he points on the day-old bruise on Soonyoung’s cheek. Fingertips grazing his skin just so. “It’s a purple hue now.”

Soonyoung swallows. “What about it?”

Gameboy drops his hands. He shrugs and says, “It’s my favorite color,” and leaves Soonyoung floundering for words. Suddenly, he hears a tiny, mechanic sound by the floor. He startles and thinks it’s a spider for a second. But when he looks closely, it’s a strange circular chip with metal arms climbing up and settling on Gameboy’s waiting palm. It crimps until it’s nothing but an unassuming compact chip. Soonyoung jerks, realizing. “What did you _do_?”

Gameboy would grin if he could. “You’ll see later.”

“You fucking prick,” Soonyoung growls, feeling absolutely cheated, and he procures a lightbeam with the static electricity in his palms. Too late. Gameboy slinks away as he grabs something from his suit and throws it to the ground. It explodes into thick clouds of smoke to cover his escape. Soonyoung yells, looking for Gameboy blind, but he's already long gone.

Seungcheol stares at his computer. “He planted a bug.”

“He—what?” Mingyu squints at the screen. “Oh god, he removed all the data? Damn, Jihoon hyung is gonna be so fucking _pissed_.”

And as if on cue, they hear a very loud yell from the room down the hallway.

Seungcheol sighs. “Go calm him down, Mingyu.”

“Me? Why me?” Mingyu says, eyes wide, and he looks around the room to point to the nearest available person. “Why not Hansol?”

“Because Jihoon’s less likely to break your bones out of all the people in this building.”

Mingyu looks comical. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” starts Seungcheol, fingers to his temple like it’s throbbing, “that you should probably go over there now if you don’t want our building to burn down. Distract him. Take him out or something.”

Mingyu just blinks, blinks. Hair wild. Finally, he relents, muttering to himself, and goes out of the room to check up on Jihoon who—yes—is still yelling. Seungkwan just shakes his head and exits with Hansol as well. Soonyoung stands beside Seungcheol’s desk, fists to his side, head down. He says, “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“It’s alright,” Seungcheol says, but Soonyoung knows it isn’t, “At least we know who did it. We would’ve been left in the dark if you weren’t there.”

Soonyoung clenches his jaw. “I could’ve done more. I could’ve _stopped_ him.”

“What’s done is done,” Seungcheol sighs, tired. “I don’t know if we’ll ever fully recover all the data that’s been erased and damaged but it wasn’t entirely your fault. It’s also our fault for letting our guard down.” He presses a single button on his keyboard and a thousand tabs pop up—all Gameboy’s bugs. “You did your best, Soonyoung. Take a rest and go home.”

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he repeats like it’s the only thing he knows how to say now.

Seungcheol gives him a small smile. “Go home, Soonyoung,” he says, reaching forward to pat his clenched fists, a touch of comfort. “You have classes tomorrow.”

Soonyoung just nods, turning to leave. He still feels cheated, wronged, and most of all mad at himself. This is why you’re supposed to separate personal matters with work, he remembers Seungcheol telling him when he was young and new to the team. They’re nothing but distractions. In this playing field, there’s no room for mistakes. He hears Seungcheol call him out just before he reaches the door and he turns back, eyes stormy.

“Learn to forgive yourself, Soonyoungie,” Seungcheol says, the nickname a look back to the past. But other than his love for nicknames, Seungcheol’s not the thick-skulled general leader he was, anymore. He’s warmer and softer and kinder now—everything Soonyoung has learned to stop being to himself. With a lighter tone, Seungcheol adds, “Also, stop concentrating heat and energy in your body. You look kind of like a walking live wire right now.”

Hansol sends him Youtube links to meditation and breathing exercises because no matter how hard he tries he’s still tremendously pissed about it the next day. Back at the HQ they’d steered clear off of him in an act of reasonable self-preservation and thirty minutes in Seungcheol had decided to give him the day off in the guise of giving Soonyoung well-needed time to work on his class projects for the weekend. “So you can pull those twos to a four, yeah?” he’d said, and Soonyoung had wrinkled his nose and walked out of the HQ—all stellar hands and anger and soda energy.

Right now, he’s sitting in the college library where he and Wonwoo had been working on their project, doing his damn best not to give off currents and maybe electrocute the only person who can tolerate him right now. He’d texted Wonwoo the minute he walked out of the HQ. Decided to heed Seungcheol’s advice and do something worth his time. He thinks that maybe if he raised his grades Seungcheol would give him better missions. Not ones that included thwarting the night escapades of some lame no-faced pixel nerd.

It's a relief that Soonyoung’s lightbeams come out of his hands instead of his eyes, really, because if it did then Wonwoo’s laptop screen would probably be beamed to oblivion right now. He clenches his jaw and Wonwoo must’ve noticed because he asks, “Are you okay?”

Soonyoung takes a deep breath before speaking. “What?”

“You alright?” Wonwoo asks, looking at Soonyoung as he types. “You seem off.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo says carefully, “Are you sure you want to be partnered with me for this project? You can change if you want to. We can just tell the professor—”

“It’s fine,” Soonyoung assures, and Wonwoo’s mouth snaps shut. Soonyoung smiles for good measure. “I want to. I’m the one who asked you, remember?”

Wonwoo’s gaze drops to his cheek and then back to the screen. “Right.”

Soonyoung knows why. Earlier this morning when he’d checked in the mirror the bruise had turned from a dark purple to a lighter one that’s a strange hybrid of lilac-gold. He says, “You’re wondering how I got this bruise, aren’t you?”

“It’s just… loud,” Wonwoo explains awkwardly after a moment, “The color, I mean. So I can’t help but look at it. It’s nothing, really, and you don’t have to tell me what happened—"

“But do you wanna know?”

Wonwoo hesitates. “I mean, no preference, really.”

Soonyoung grins, planting his chin to his palms, and Wonwoo immediately looks away. He swallows, trying not to flush. Soonyoung leans in a bit as if to whisper conspiringly. Voice hushed, he says, “I got it from a fist fight.”

“What?”

“You ever been to a fist fight, Wonwoo?” Soonyoung asks, leaning away, eyes bright. When Wonwoo shakes his head mutely, he says, “It’s something of an experience. And I know it sounds crazy but it gets fun sometimes because of the adrenaline. If you lose at least you’ve got a funny story to tell, right?”

Wonwoo blinks. “Sounds like something a thug would say.”

“Hey!” Soonyoung laughs, surprised, “It seems mad but that’s only because you haven’t tried being in one.”

An amused smile stretches from Wonwoo's mouth. “Are you telling me to get into a fist fight?”

“Bad advice, right?” Soonyoung says, jokingly sighing. “This is why my friends don’t go to me for advice. They all think that _I_ think violence is the answer.”

“Well, do you think that violence is the answer?”

When Soonyoung pauses to consider and says, “Well, I mean—" Wonwoo snorts with a smile. Soonyoung laughs. “Hey, come on, I haven’t even—well I agree that there _are_ situations that require violence but I don’t always think that it’s the answer!”

“Words of a thug, I’m telling you,” Wonwoo teases, gluing his eyes back to the screen as his cheeks lift so much it looks like it hurts. Soonyoung just laughs again, staring at Wonwoo, looking at the grin on his mouth. Thinking that happiness is a look that suits everyone but there are certain people in the world that look exceptionally good wearing it. “Do you wanna work on this dataset with me?”

Soonyoung manages to drag Wonwoo to dinner. They settle on the low stools of a tiny pop-up Japanese ramen booth a minute walk away from their college campus. Red paper lanterns hang from its wooden ceilings. They order two bowls of miso and decide to share a large Coke bottle.

“I don’t understand how we’re already making progress with the project,” says Soonyoung, swirling his steaming ramen. “If I did this alone I'd probably cram everything in the last hour and then take a minute before the deadline to draw pentagrams and probably sell my soul to the devil for passing grades.”

Wonwoo laughs. “Kind of an unfair deal, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung allows, “but at that point I’ve probably already gone past the point of caring.” He looks at Wonwoo curiously. “Have you always liked programming?”

Wonwoo hums. “Not really.”

“You’re so good at it, though.”

“I’m decent at it,” Wonwoo says, embarrassed, training his eyes to the bowl, “but it’s not my first choice. Nothing is, really. While I was applying for college I didn’t know what I wanted but a lot of people told me I was good with computers so I sorta stuck with it, I guess.”

“Lucky,” Soonyoung whistles, “I have the computer literacy of a 60-year-old.”

Wonwoo laughs. “That’s not true.”

Soonyoung looks at him unbelievingly.

“Okay, well, a 40-year-old at least,” Wonwoo accedes, grinning, probably remembering the way Soonyoung did nothing but squint when Wonwoo tried to explain the code. “It’s alright, though. Not everyone has to be good with computers. Plus, you’re not even a computer science major.”

Soonyoung groans. “Exactly! I don’t even know why I’m doing this!”

“Data science is interdisciplinary,” Wonwoo explains in subtle amusement. “As long as your line of work has to deal with cataloging statistics and data, you’re bound to encounter it.”

“I hate people that are good with computers,” says Soonyoung, mind flashing to incensing pixels, “but you’re an exception, I guess.”

Wonwoo laughs at that but he can’t hide the way his neck flushes. Cheeks red, he says, “Thanks,” and tries to fill his mouth with food as if to stop himself from saying something stupid. Soonyoung stares at the delightful red clinging to his helixes like piercings. _Cute_ , he thinks offhandedly. Mingyu would raise an eyebrow at him if he were here.

Pushing the thought away, he attends to his half-finished ramen.

The next time Soonyoung sees Gameboy, it’s in front of a moving car. That is, Soonyoung jumps in front of the car and Gameboy is driving said car. Gameboy’s entire upper body crashes against the dashboard when he hits the brakes and he shouts a very loud _WHAT THE FUCK_ to Soonyoung. A painful-looking red bump forms on his forehead.

Soonyoung calmly goes to the driver’s side and temporarily paralyzes Gameboy. The whole time, he does everything in mechanic precision without a single word. He binds Gameboy’s hands and ignores his angry demands. On the shotgun seat are cups of coffee to go. He’d bought them for his teammates, apparently. Too bad they aren’t getting their morning coffee today. Soonyoung carries Gameboy out of the car and throws him, still bound, to the back seat.

Gameboy struggles with the hands. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer. He ignores Gameboy’s penetrating gaze and dials Seungcheol’s number. “I got him,” he says when Seungcheol picks up. “To the HQ, right?”

He hears rustling from the other line. “Yeah. Don’t hurt him.”

“I’m on the way,” he says, ignoring Seungcheol’s last statement and hanging up. He adjusts the car seat. He could feel Gameboy bore holes at his back. He’s staring at Soonyoung—waiting for a haughty line, expecting a scowl. Something, anything. Soonyoung does nothing.

Gameboy blinks. “Are you ignoring me?”

Soonyoung, in fact, is ignoring him. Call him petty. But he’s really not in the mood for all this hero-villain theatrics right now especially after their last encounter. Not in the mood for a fight either. He starts the car and swerves it back to the proper lane.

“You _are_ ignoring me,” Gameboy says, voice coated in disbelief. “Why are you ignoring me?”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything. He just keeps driving and when he sees Gameboy open his mouth again from the corner of his eyes, he turns the radio up high. Gameboy gapes at him from the back of the car. Soonyoung looks at the road wordlessly and heads for the HQ.

Jihoon crosses his arms. “Are you fucking mute or something?”

The rest of the team watch the whole thing with barely concealed amazement. Gameboy remains mum. His eyes stare back at Jihoon’s blankly, unmoving, not even the least bit fazed. If it were them in Gameboy’s position they’d have bended already.

“You better talk while I’m still asking nicely, gamer boy,” Jihoon threatens.

Gameboy stays quiet.

Beside Soonyoung, Hansol winces. “God, Jihoon hyung’s not gonna let this down. Not after that whole Gameboy bug fiasco from last time. Did the company promise him a large cut?”

“Not really but kinda,” Seokmin whispers. “Half the payment’s gonna go to strengthening security measures. It’s not gonna go straight to Jihoon-hyung’s pockets but at this point it might as well have. He’s basically the only person in the cyber security team.”

Seungkwan wants in on the gossip. “What’s the company on about anyway?” he asks, and by then Soonyoung tunes them out, having been briefed about the whole situation already by Seungcheol.

Long story short: a hotshot video game company had approached Seungcheol days ago asking for help. A classic case of data breach, it had been. Classified files, trade secrets, personal information. All that jazz. If it had been a ransomware, they’d have taken care of it quietly. It wasn’t, though. The entire thing was relentless and unforgiving. They were in it to expose and nothing else.

The IP address of the attacker was virtually untraceable but Jihoon insisted the way the attack was executed was similar to Gameboy’s methods. So, of course.

“Where the hell did you store all the files?” Jihoon is demanding.

Gameboy just stares.

Jihoon clenches his fists. “Fine. Don’t talk,” he fumes, “I’m gonna prove you’re behind this whole thing. And then I’m gonna extract the files back from wherever you stole it and turn you in.”

They all look at Gameboy for any tells. A twitch in the eye, a nervous swallow. Anything. But he just stares at Jihoon in that infuriating way of his, pixels going about his face drowsily, and Jihoon turns angrier. He makes to leave with his jaw clenched.

At that exact moment Gameboy says, “Good luck with that, Woozi.”

It’s Jihoon’s old hacker name before Seungcheol had found and recruited him. Jihoon whips around and demands, “What the hell did you say?”

“I said good luck,” Gameboy says with a lazy drawl. “I know there’s a lot in your plate right now. Have you already recovered all your data from last time, by the way?”

And it sounds like an innocent inquiry. It really does. But everyone knows it was simply made to rouse Jihoon, especially since Gameboy _is_ the one who caused all the trouble. Jihoon, of course, takes the bait. “You motherfucking—” Jihoon starts, marching to him with a closed fist and they all stand in alarm.

“Okay!” Mingyu laughs nervously, barricading himself between Jihoon and Gameboy. “Why don’t we go outside for some fresh air, hyung?”

Jihoon visibly fumes. Mingyu has to usher him out as he grits out a garbled mess of colorful words. Seungcheol stands up too. “Alright, everybody out,” he says, and everyone scrambles to leave at the authoritative tone. Soonyoung stands up too. “Except you, Starburst.”

Soonyoung looks at Seungcheol behind his mask warily. “What?”

“Stay here,” Seungcheol instructs, and he raises an eyebrow as if to challenge him to retort. “I’ll come back in a bit. Watch over him.”

He tries a “But hyung—” but it’s weak and unheard. Seungcheol exits the room and leaves them both in silence. Soonyoung clears his throat awkwardly. With nothing else to do, he stares out the glass windows. Someone could walk in with a knife and cut through the tension between them.

Gameboy is the once who breaks the silence.

“You’re mad from last time,” he says, and it’s an observation. Soonyoung absolutely refuses to look at him. “Look, sorry for… disappearing on you like that.” He hears a light snort. “Uh, that’s kind of a joke. Y’know. Because I literally disappeared when I threw that smoke bomb.”

Soonyoung exhales slowly.

“Can you at least tell me what is it exactly that you’re angry about?” Gameboy says but Soonyoung doesn’t answer, of course. “I’m sorry, alright? Whatever it is. You weren’t even supposed to be there that day. It was all planned out and the smoke bomb was a last resort and—are you seriously gonna keep ignoring me?” And the last part sounds so much like a fucking whine Soonyoung has to bite his tongue.

When Gameboy speaks again, his voice is closer. “Aren't you gonna face me, at least?"

Soonyoung's head whips. When he looks, Gameboy is in a stance and he’s fucking untied. Rope on the floor, wrists flexing. “What the fu—” Soonyoung swears, and the punch he throws is instinctive. Gameboy ducks. Spins. His kick thunders on Soonyoung’s thigh and it shoots white hot pain to Soonyoung’s head. He nearly topples over.

The chair Gameboy had been interrogated in doesn’t make it. It flies across the room and Soonyoung can’t even tell who does it. He concentrates power into his hands, envelopes his punches with static electricity but Gameboy deflects every single one. Finally, Soonyoung procures a lightbeam and throws it against his fucking chest. Gameboy hits the floor with a pained groan. Soonyoung pins him down.

“You done ignoring me now?” Gameboy exhales breathlessly.

“You’ve been nothing but trouble,” Soonyoung spits, electric hands on both his wrists.

“Yeah, well, your client’s a fucking dick."

Soonyoung narrows his eyes. “What?"

“Your client? That video game company that hired you?" Gameboy rasps. "We did a little background check on them weeks ago and everyone on the directorial board is involved in some shady business. They’re all a bunch of selfish tycoons who’d step on people for money. Do you even know how they treat their employees?”

“What the hell are you—"

“They don’t pay their employees, do you know that?” Gameboy continues, eyes challenging and angry. “All the money goes to the board. It was a condition not specified upon interview but written in the disclaimer part of their 10-page employment contract they know no one has the patience to read. They don’t get paid unless they’ve been in the company for three years. It’s a binding contract. You can’t leave or disclose your situation to outsiders. Statistics show that 4% of the annual disappearances in Seoul have been employees of the company, you know, don’t you think that’s kind of fishy?”

Soonyoung stares at him in disbelief. “You’re fucking with me,” he says, gritting his teeth. “You’re just saying that so I can let you go.”

Gameboy laughs—rich coming from someone who’s at a disadvantage. “When your team somehow manages to retrieve their data, do yourself a favor and read the employment contract and the classified files.”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just tightens his grip on Gameboy’s wrists he’s certain it’ll bruise.

“We’re doing it to expose them,” Gameboy says, softer this time, and his eyes behind his fucking pixels look so, so real. “We're doing it for the employees. It’s your choice who you want to side with, Starburst.”

 _Fuck_.

Eventually, he breaks. He’s so fucking easy—always have been. What would Seungcheol say? He slacks until his hands are just loosely curled fists on Gameboy’s wrists and Gameboy slinks away hastily at the first chance he gets. His gaze on Soonyoung is wary. Soonyoung remains on the floor, fists to his lap, head down. Gameboy goes to the nearest window then hesitates. He asks, “Are you still angry at me?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, and even to him his voice sounds defeated. “Go away before I electrocute you.”

Gameboy doesn’t say anything. He just stares and stares until they both hear footsteps outside the door. Then, he opens the window and climbs out into the cold, cold city with his freedom on his shoulders like a fucking cape. Seungcheol opens the door and Soonyoung braces himself for the impact.

“What the—where the hell is he?” Seungcheol gapes.

“He managed to escape,” Soonyoung says, doesn’t add _I tried to stop him_. The wooden splinters of a broken chair sit on the corner like a testimony.

Seungcheol looks at him sitting on the floor disbelievingly. “He defeated you?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, and all electricity—all the light—drain from his palms. “He defeated me.”

“Do you think I’m turning into a bad person?”

Wonwoo pauses from typing. “What?”

“Sorry, that was random,” says Soonyoung, planting his cheek to the table, head turned so he doesn’t have to look at Wonwoo. “I just feel weird. Ignore me.”

“It’s alright,” he hears Wonwoo say carefully. “What—what is this about?”

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung sighs. “I’m having a moral dilemma.”

“And you ended up with the thought that you’re turning into a bad person?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

Wonwoo hums. “Who gets to say who’s a good person and a bad person, though?”

“The idea of good and evil is so weird,” Soonyoung says, chin hitting the wood as he speaks. “Like, how do we even decide what’s a good deed from a bad one? Do we classify them because of its results or how it’s done?”

“No one knows."

“Yeah, so I’ll never know if I’m truly a good person or a bad person. Maybe I’m neither. Maybe when I reach judgement day they’ll put me somewhere in the middle and say _well he hasn’t been the most pleasant person but I guess he tried._ ”

He expects Wonwoo to laugh. He doesn’t. Instead, he clears his throat and says, “Well, for the record, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

He feels a great urge to turn around just to see the blush that’s sure to splay across Wonwoo’s cheeks. He doesn’t. He just laughs and says, “Thanks, Wonwoo,” with that strange sensation in his chest—like lightning behind a cloud. Muted, stirring. 

Electrifying.

Finals near. Everyday the sun comes up and weaves longer days for them to live through. Soonyoung goes to his classes; he does his superhero duties; he works on his project with Wonwoo. Rinse and repeat. Seungcheol must’ve noticed it—the tired lines of his face, the snappier responses. He dispatches Soonyoung on easier missions. They tread on eggshells around him back at the HQ. He fucking hates it, sometimes. Being feared. It’s not his fault there’s so much electricity and energy and light in his body desperate to escape at every opportunity. His tired mind makes it easier for the emission to happen. He wears longer sleeves and thicker fabrics because he’s a fucking walking live wire these days. There might as well have been a large yellow Danger sign tied to his neck like a noose.

And Wonwoo—Wonwoo has been so fucking patient. So wonderful.

Most of the time, Soonyoung feels like he doesn’t deserve him at all.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” says Soonyoung, picking up a discarded shirt and putting it in the hamper. “Well, not kind of. It is a mess. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why we’re here.”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s alright. Where do I put my laptop?”

Soonyoung looks around—sees nothing but unwashed hoodies and stray wrappers and discarded essays. The study desk is a promising prospect but the seating space isn’t big enough for two people. The dining table would’ve been okay too except for the coffee cup stain abstracts. He doesn’t even fucking like coffee. God. “Um,” he says, “Actually, are you okay with working on the bed?”

Wonwoo blinks.

“I keep it the cleanest because it’s where I sleep,” Soonyoung laughs a bit sheepishly. “You can go ahead and sit. I’ll just clean up for a bit.”

Wonwoo mindfully sits on the edge of the bed as Soonyoung cleans. It’s a small room: bed pushed to the wall, a hobbit bathroom by the entrance, post-it notes above the desk. You could cover the perimeter in ten steps. It’s not exactly spotless when he finishes but it’s doable. He sits beside Wonwoo with a sigh.

“I can’t even imagine what your dorm with Mingyu looks like,” he says, folding his feet beneath his knees. “You’re both very neat people. It must look like a fucking IKEA bedroom unlike mine.”

Wonwoo laughs, backspacing. “You’ve got your own room, at least.”

“Yeah.” He looks at the hesitant curve of Wonwoo’s back. “Why don’t you sit further on the bed? You look like you’re about to fall off.”

They sit with their backs on the wall. Fingers clacking away, eyes focused and squinting. Soonyoung offers to help and Wonwoo hands him the laptop. The first two hours they work on the code in between playful chatters but they turn quieter later on. Wonwoo, especially. From the single window adjacent the bed dusk falls around them like rain. It feels final, somehow. The way the sun sets. A reminder of a looming deadline. There’s the occasional cracked joke. A quiet sigh, a confused lilt of the voice. But other than that, they’re quiet by the time night blankets the entire city. Blue-light hits Wonwoo’s glasses like a spotlight and his eyes look so, so tired.

“Hey, why don’t you rest for a bit?” Soonyoung says gently.

Wonwoo coughs. “Yeah, alright, in a bit.” But he doesn’t move at all nor does he stop typing.

“Wonwoo, come on. I’ll work on it, alright?” he says, carefully placing a palm on Wonwoo’s hands moving on its own as if bewitched. "Take a quick break. I’ll work on this for a while.”

Albeit hesitant, Wonwoo hands him the laptop. He leans back on the wall, taking off his glasses, closing his eyes. Soonyoung shoots him a concerned look as he types. They’re alien language, still. The letters, the numbers. The fucking code. But he tries. A lot of his command prompts don’t work. He bites back his frustration and keeps trying. It feels like his existence is an error itself. Suddenly, Wonwoo opens his eyes and says, “Wanna order take outs?”

Soonyoung breathes in slow. “Yeah, sure.”

“Is Chinese okay?”

“Your call, really,” says Soonyoung, and Wonwoo takes out his phone. “I’m good with anything.”

Their lo mein and sweet and sour pork arrive with a call. Soonyoung offers to get it from the lobby. When he comes back, plastic bags wrapped to his fingers, Wonwoo is on his laptop again. The heavy anchors weighing down his eyes are back. Soonyoung clicks his tongue as he puts the food on the coffee-stained table. “Come and eat for a bit, Wonwoo.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says a bit sternly when Wonwoo doesn’t stop. “Let go of that laptop for a second, will you?”

Wonwoo mumbles something bleary under his breath but he joins Soonyoung in the dining table eventually. As they eat, Soonyoung asks, “Have you studied for your finals yet?”

“Not yet,” Wonwoo sighs, swirling his noodles, “I’m planning to study after this project, though, that’s why I’m trying to finish it tonight.”

“Don’t rush it. We’ve still got three days to prepare for finals and submit this project.”

Wonwoo just shakes his head. “Not enough.”

After dinner Wonwoo is back to typing in that bewitched way of his again. Soonyoung cleans up and sits next to him after. When he looks at the clock, it’s a little bit past nine p.m. Wonwoo shows no hint of stopping. He asks, “Are you staying the night?”

Wonwoo looks up, distracted. “Huh? Uh, I don’t know. What time is it?” He squints at the time on his laptop screen. “Fuck.”

“You can stay, if you want.”

“Yeah?” Wonwoo swallows. “Is that alright?”

Soonyoung holds his gaze. An electric current zaps straight to his chest as light flits across Wonwoo’s face. For a moment every thought in his mind momentarily flatlines. Soonyoung is everything a superhero shouldn’t be: impatient, snappy, knuckle-headed. And most of all, he’s selfish.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung inhales. “Of course. As long as it’s you.”

When Wonwoo looks away, Soonyoung loses his exhales. There’s a drumming in chest like footsteps of a whole fucking battalion. Wonwoo’s cheeks are red, and Soonyoung—Soonyoung can’t seem to catch his breath.

Somehow, Soonyoung manages to fall asleep. When he comes to, it’s with his head on a pillow and the comforter tucked to his chin. He blinks at the ceiling blearily before sitting up when he realizes. Wonwoo is by the foot of his bed, back to the wall, laptop closed shut beside him. And he’s fucking _sleeping_.

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung wails in the lowest tone possible, eyes shutting. God, he feels like a fucking dick. How can he fall asleep on Wonwoo like that while they’re working on their project? He despairs for a whole minute before deciding to open the laptop. It’s on 6% battery. He scrolls through the entire program and realizes.

“Oh god,” Soonyoung wails to the quiet room again. Wonwoo finished it. He fucking finished the entire code while Soonyoung slept. Here he was, sleeping peacefully while his partner stayed up all night finishing their project. To top it all off, he hadn’t even given him a futon or a pillow to sleep on.

God. It’s barely even eight a.m. but he’s already maximum level in hating himself.

As quiet as possible, he gets off the bed. He stands cluelessly for a few seconds like a fucking Sim. Then, he looks at Wonwoo. He comes closer to lay him down. Makes sure he's horizontal and tucked in and comfortable and places a pillow beneath his head. He looks so, so peaceful like this. Like the whole world could break into war right now and he'd still remain unbothered. Entranced, Soonyoung brushes the hair off his face.

Then he realizes.

He retracts his hand as if he'd been stung. And then he does what any other reasonable person would do: he runs straight to the bathroom like the fucking coward he is and buries his face in his hands, feeling so helpless and breathless and like everything's spiraling out of his control. 

_Oh fuck_ , he thinks, feeling his heart run a marathon in his chest. _Fuck fuck fuck._

Mingyu waves at him wildly from the cafeteria. “Hyung!”

Soonyoung checks his watch—ten more minutes 'till his next class. He decides to reroute to the cafeteria. Mingyu is nursing a cup of coffee when he arrives. Soonyoung mentally winces at the thick stack of books Mingyu had probably been studying.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, “Sleep well?”

Mingyu makes a face. “Eh. So-so.”

Soonyoung snorts in lieu of laughter. “One week more and we’ll all be done, don’t worry,” he says. “God, I haven’t even studied for my finals yet. Seungcheol-hyung’s gonna punch me to the ground.”

Mingyu laughs, and they fall quiet for a while. Students rush to their next classes on the field outside. Suddenly, Mingyu says, “Wonwoo-hyung didn’t sleep at the dorm last night, you know.”

Soonyoung swallows. “I know.”

“Oh?” Mingyu’s eyes glimmer in interest.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung tries not to give himself away. “He stayed over at mine to finish our project last night.”

Mingyu sips on his coffee. “Yeah? How was it?”

“Well, we finished it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he says, and Mingyu just raises an eyebrow. What’s Soonyoung supposed to say? Yeah, we finished the project. Oh and also I realized I kinda, sorta, maybe, just a little bit, have the tiniest crush on him. And I panicked in the bathroom this morning because of it. And then I tucked him into bed and made him breakfast and wrote him a little post it that said _good luck today!_ with two smiley faces. By the way, do you have more of that coffee? I kind of feel like splashing my face with hot water, thanks.

Mingyu stares at him for three long seconds before letting it go.

Apparently, while Soonyoung was taking his last exam of the semester, the apocalypse started. Or at least that’s what Seungcheol is telling him through the newly-installed in ear in his suit, voice choppy and panting, like he’s explaining everything in the middle of a fight. And maybe he is. He’s rambling—jumping from topic to topic. By the time he gets to saying, “Also remember that research thing Jihoon was working on about the other team before Gameboy placed bugs on our computers? Well, he started it again last week, right? And just last night we found out that _some_ of them might possibly be studying in your university—" and then he cuts himself off with a grunt and the line shuts.

Soonyoung blinks—thoroughly alarmed. From the car mirror the Uber driver keeps giving him terrified looks. They’re stuck in traffic, the road to the city square apparently blocked, and Soonyoung feels restless. Fuck. He needs to go now.

Hastily, he fishes bills from his pockets. "I'm really, really sorry—" he rambles, handing the terrified driver the money, and from the distance they all hear an explosion. "You can keep the change, thanks! Stay safe!" And then he swings the car door open and sprints to where all the action is happening.

When he arrives, his eyes almost bulge out of its sockets. The city square is a Picasso painting. Misplaced blocks, a fucking upside down Burger King, smashed sedans. It takes him a few moments to successfully maneuver across the whole mess. Half the ground’s been turned to ice, and Soonyoung guesses that’s probably Hansol’s artwork. He’s in the right place, then.

“I’m here,” Soonyoung says to his in ear to anyone who’s listening.

Instantly, Mingyu materializes next to him. His hair’s a mess and the left sleeve of his suit had been burned off. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Soonyoung says, looking at his state, “What happened to you?”

Mingyu just pants and says, “Lucky Eight.”

That’s his mortal enemy. He rarely goes to fights but demands for Mingyu whenever he gets sent in one.

“Where’s Seungcheol-hyung?”

“I’ll take you to him,” Mingyu says, breathing deep one last time before transporting them to the other side of the square.

The explosions are louder in this side of the battle. Hansol and Seungkwan are already there, tag-teaming throughout the whole battle, movements as rhythmic as a dance for two. Ice ball, kick, tackle. Icicle, punch, fireball, tackle. Their blue-orange powers meld and gyrate around the square crazily. Who are they up against? As Soonyoung squints to see, the fucking ground beneath them cracks open. He flies two meters back and almost hits a rogue car door.

“Double J,” Seungcheol says, fist still on the ground, and the two villains in question turn to the newcomer. “Why don’t you guys go pick on someone your own size?”

Jester turns to him with an evil glint in his eye. “Silverclaw, how nice of you to join the party.”

“We almost thought you were too scared to come,” Jawbreaker smirks, putting a hand on his partner’s shoulder.

Seungcheol glares at them. “Who’d be terrified of you?” And then he runs to meet both their attacks halfway.

“He looks busy,” Soonyoung pants to Mingyu also lying on the cracked ground next to him. “I wanted to ask him about something, though. He mentioned something about some of the villains studying in our university.”

Mingyu breathes against the asphalt. “Yeah, I heard about that too. Do you think we know any of them?”

“God, I fucking hope not,” Soonyoung says, wincing when Seungcheol throws a fucking car to the general direction of Double J as if its weight is nothing but a paper ball. They both yell beneath the car.

“Wonwoo-hyung’s sick, by the way,” Mingyu says, nursing a bleeding arm. “He came to the dorm after his last exam and just collapsed in bed. Just wanted to let you know.”

Soonyoung’s throats feels dry. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, looking at him curiously. “Anyway, I gotta go. Seokmin’s asking for me.”

Soonyoung nods. “Good luck, Anyang Man.”

Mingyu just gives him a two-fingered salute and disappears. Seungkwan and Hansol are meters away with Seungkwan trying to extinguish the fire on the ankles of Hansol’s pants. Just then, they all hear a war cry from the skies. Above comes RoboChan, landing into the ground with a loud crack beneath his feet. He stands up slowly, chin to the sky, cape triumphantly fluttering behind. Soonyoung sees Hansol, with burning pants, furrow his eyebrows at the theatrics.

“You’re going down, Boo,” RoboChan says.

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose as he sits up. “God, who invited him?”

“And I’m gonna beat you too, Chew.”

“It’s Chwe,” Hansol corrects.

“It’s Chew to me,” RoboChan says, cracking his knuckles, “because I’m about to chew you up and spit you out like a gum!”

Soonyoung watches them for a few more seconds before standing up. On a normal crime-fighting day he’d get too excited and insert himself in the nearest brawl. Today is not a normal crime-fighting day. Today, the biggest battle is taking place in Seoul and he’s so fucking lost. His biggest enemy isn’t even around. He hasn’t been since Soonyoung had let him escape to the city the last time. Is he plotting something? Fighting someone else in this square right now? Quit villain life for good and hid in some secluded island like Mokpo?

God, why does he even care?

Like some sort of universe-sent sign, Gameboy appears. He stumbles to the square, actually, footsteps wobbly and head heavy like he’d just awaken from a deep slumber. Pixels going about his face like a puzzle solving itself. Hansol, amidst his battle with RoboChan, throws an iceball. RoboChan dodges it and the ball goes straight to Gameboy—hits him in the arm and throws him to the ground.

Gameboy groans.

Immediately, Soonyoung is by his side, staring down at him. Debating whether or not to do something. Does he help him up? Finish him? Does he say _hey you’re a big fucking jerk and I hate you but I’m willing to go back to our hero-villain dynamics anyway?_ When he finally swallows past the nervous constricting of his throat, he taunts, “Giving up so soon, Gameboy?”

Gameboy opens his eyes. “Starburst,” he breathes, and it kind of sounds a bit like relief. “You're not mad anymore?"

“Oh, I am,” Soonyoung says, conjuring a light ball as Gameboy clumsily stands up. “I’m still very, very angry that’s why I’m going to beat your ass today.”

Gameboy lets out a shaky exhale but he looks like he’s smiling. “I’d like to see you try.”

It happens fast: the kick throws Soonyoung out of balance and the light ball explodes like stars at a nearby statue. They exchange punches in the middle of the square. Gameboy tries to keep Soonyoung’s hand busy, does his best to not give him a chance to procure more beams of light. His premature ones weakly hit the ground and sizzle down after a few seconds. Despite this though, Soonyoung notices that Gameboy’s jabs are weaker today somehow. His kicks and punches and attacks lack the usual firm power it has. He’s breathing laboriously beneath his mask too.

It takes Soonyoung less than three minutes to finish the fight.

Defeating Gameboy is easy. He falls to the ground at Soonyoung’s well-aimed kick. The waiting lightbeam in Soonyoung’s hand follows the trajectory of his fall and blasts in his fucking face. A mechanical crack echoes throughout the whole square.

“Hyung!” Mingyu appears beside him, breathless, “Seungcheol-hyung told me to—”

And he pauses, looking to where Soonyoung’s staring. Gameboy is lying on the ground, suit damaged beyond repair, and its pixels move restlessly for a few seconds as if on its last hurrah before shutting down. His mask cracks open and—

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung breathes, feeling a bit faint.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Mingyu agrees as they stare at Jeon Wonwoo’s bloodied face on the ground, his Gameboy suit offline, eyes shut, chest rising and falling wildly before it stops. Soonyoung’s breath stops.

Soonyoung is angry. Very angry, in fact, he could punch through a wall right now. Electricity trickles around him like a fucking warning sign. He looks menacing, he knows. He looks like he could kill. Mingyu is in the corner of the room, shuffling nervously, and he’s placed a reasonable distance between him and Soonyoung. Jeon Wonwoo sits on the hospital bed in front of them looking like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. An IV drip sticks from his wrist and hangs from a bag beside him.

“So you decided to wake up,” says Soonyoung, voice dripping acid. “Thank god. For a second there I thought you were gonna sleep the whole day away. So much has happened today, you know? The main city roads were blocked, Queen and Copycat appeared in the city square, and some lameass villain named Gameboy got sent to the hospital. Apparently, he just finished finals this week and then he fell sick. He had high fucking fever, do you know that? Oh wait, of course you do. Because you’re him! You’re fucking Gameboy!”

Mingyu winces. “Hyung—”

Soonyoung whips to look at him, and whatever Mingyu’s about to say wilts in his tongue and he slinks away further into the wall. Soonyoung turns back to Wonwoo. “I just hope you fucking know what a mess this whole affair had been. We had to locate some rogue superhero from Busan who has amnesia powers just to make the whole hospital staff forget your fucking identity.”

Wonwoo swallows, head hanging low. “I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?”

“Uh,” Wonwoo stutters, looking at Mingyu as if to ask for help. “Um. Sorry?”

“Stop that.” Soonyoung is furious, and by the minute Wonwoo looks like he wants to disappear under his gaze. Maybe he needs his pixels to hide behind. Is that why he’s so fucking cocky whenever he’s posing as Gameboy? Because he has something to hide behind? Fuck. Remembering the whole thing just makes his nerve ends singe with electricity. He’s got so much questions and he doesn’t know where to start. “You’ve got lots of explaining to do, Jeon Wonwoo."

“So you’re saying you became a villain because Ms Bae, who was your professor for one class, is Queen and she recruited you when you said you needed extra credits for the class?”

Wonwoo clears his throat. “Yes.”

“And that you have no actual powers except for your mad programming skills?”

“That’s about it—yes.”

“And that you’ve known I was Starburst for three whole fucking months already just because of my fucking helix piercing?”

“Um, yeah.”

Soonyoung bursts. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Wonwoo looks at Mingyu in alarm—that seems to be his default action whenever Soonyoung blows up but Mingyu just does nothing but flatten himself further into the wall. Wonwoo swallows. “I’m sorry?”

“I can’t believe this,” Soonyoung says, feeling a bit crazy. “I can’t fucking believe this. Your entire existence is a mixed signal. Whenever you face me as Gameboy you’re so self-assured and cocky and you act like you don’t give a fuck about me but whenever you take off the mask you’re so nice and kind and you give me the fondest looks whenever you think I’m not paying attention. It drives me so fucking crazy.”

“I—I’m—” Wonwoo looks shocked. “What?”

“Alright,” Mingyu chokes, “Guess that’s my cue to go.” And then he disappears, face red, just like that.

Soonyoung shakes his head. “You’re an enigma, Jeon Wonwoo. It’s as if you’ve worn your pixels the whole time I’ve known you. I can’t seem to read you right.”

“Do you—do you know?”

“Do I know what?”

Wonwoo hesitates.

Soonyoung sighs, knowing fully well what he’s talking about, feeling angry but so fond beyond belief. It’s crazy. “You fucking idiot, of course I know,” he says, shaking his head, “We both have loud, meddling friends. I know you—” he swallows, “I know you like me. Or maybe it’s in past tense—you liked me. You had a crush on me then but you don’t now. I’m not so sure anymore.”

They're both quiet for a moment. It's deafening—the silence. Soonyoung almost thinks maybe all of this is a mistake, maybe he's gotten everything wrong, when Wonwoo finally speaks. He swallows, closing his eyes.

He says, “It’s not—it’s not in past tense.”

Pause. “What?”

“I like you. I still do.”

Soonyoung’s chest rockets. And he hears nothing but the sound of the heart monitor echoing in his ears, Wonwoo’s heartrate beating in time with his. “God,” Soonyoung breathes out, and he’s laughing, heart soaring, _“Finally._ We’re both fucking idiots.”

Wonwoo looks terrified as Soonyoung comes closer. “What does that mean?”

“You’re supposed to be the smarter one between the two of us,” Soonyoung says, nearing, “It means I like you back, you dumbass.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo says, and his gaze drops to the smile on Soonyoung’s mouth. It feels like a laserbeam to the fucking chest. “Oh.”

Soonyoung sits next to him on the hospital bed, face close, and Wonwoo’s nervous breath fans his cheek. Soonyoung could breach the distance if he wanted to but he doesn’t. He moves away after a few painful seconds. “I’m not kissing you until you get better.”

Wonwoo blinks dazedly. “What?”

“Recover soon, gamer boy,” Soonyoung says, and Wonwoo’s heart monitor beeps loud beside them. They're both so, so close. No pixels, no masks. Just their bare gazes finally meeting. Wonwoo looks like he’s seconds away from crossing the distance between them himself. Soonyoung fights the urge. Instead, he taps Wonwoo’s nose with a playful grin and moves away.

Mingyu looks at him and just knows. “Oh thank fucking god,” he groans, sitting up from where he’s been laying his head on Jihoon’s lap in the hospital lobby, “They finally settled their shit.”

Soonyoung tries to go for innocent. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re really, really bad at pretending, hyung,” Mingyu says, looking at Soonyoung’s finger-combed hair, his wrinkled shirt. He looks at the smug, telling smile that tried but failed to stop itself from rising on Soonyoung’s love-bitten red mouth.

“I don’t agree with that,” Soonyoung says, adjusting his collar. “I am an undercover superhero. It’s part of the job description to be a chronic liar and a great actor.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes and snorts.

(It only took one tug to the wrist for Soonyoung to break. And no, Soonyoung and Wonwoo absolutely did _not_ make out on the hospital bed. They just wanted to check how high they could get Wonwoo’s heartrate to rise—that’s all.)

**Author's Note:**

> i am terrible with making up superhero names so no one comment on that. also: queen and copycat are seulrene............... just wanted to let everyone know


End file.
